


Glass Sky

by Jesse_Kamokazi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Demons, Devil, Devil Spawn, Dream Story, Fantasy, Half-Demon, Half-Devil, Original Characters - Freeform, Writer Dream, demon spawn, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 06:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11435379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesse_Kamokazi/pseuds/Jesse_Kamokazi
Summary: "It's like a house," Yanme whispered, her eyes wide as she looked back at Kathrynn, and she could tell that Yanme wanted to go in."What do you mean," Kathrynn frowned, "How is it like a house? It's a trapdoor in the middle of a train yard." Part of her didn't want to know. Yanme leaned down again, each of her hands on either side of the opened metal door. Kathrynn watched as, in her head, two creepy claws reached out and snatched her friend away. This was ridiculous. They should report it and have it covered up.Yanme looked up at her before she could say anything, her lips parted to let out a soft whistle. "Kathrynn, look! There's an open closet and clothes and kid's toys everywhere... we need to check this out."





	Glass Sky

               White light burst forth from the fingers of a man who stood along the edge of a fountain, and the calmly flowing water reflecting his golden heat. The light shined off of his earthy vest, decorated with swirling embroidery in beautiful green shades. As the glow pulsed, the hood the man wore deepened it's shadows against his face, showing off his tall cheekbones and upturned nose, and turning his hay-colored hair platinum. His arms moved as if in their own trance, guiding a serpent of melted metal which seemed to be alive, floating and dancing between the man's palms as he manipulated it without touch.   
  
               A crowd was gathered around the man, watching and cooing in awe as the air filled with the sound of flutes, lutes and drums. As the metal danced, felt his own heart beat with the fire, his veins throbbing with a bright white heat and glowing orange as he himself cooled. He molded his art with pride, as he had captured each pair of eyes of those around him. Even those who had not gathered at the beginning of his display had gravitated towards him, abandoning stalls of knit rags and pottery, his fire now reflecting in their eyes. He knew each of them, all of their names, and each of their little quirks. Each week, he preformed for them up on this fountain. Some weeks he had many, so many that they nearly filled the room. Other weeks, those who's hands were soft without wear of work joined him, able to make it because they had no job to do while the rest toiled in Moksha's factory.  
  
               Today, each face around him was primped with blushes, some with bright blue eye shadows, and others with cat eyes and contouring. Their hands were soft and their bodies plump with the relaxed lifestyle of a homebody. These were the favored ones, and for them, Calum used his fire to entertain, and gift them on this lovely day. The white glow began to fade to red as it's heat cooled in the soft breeze around them, and the crowd hushed their praise, waiting to see what Calum would do. As his pink skin darkened, and his veins flooded with an angelic white fire, the crowd came to life in excited whispers, and the metal itself bubbled between this living forge's calloused hands. In nimble fingers, the magma stretched, and the performer Calum furrowed his forehead, and he pictured his sculpture.  
  
                Body shimmering with sweat from his own heat, and his skin too hot to touch, his veins flared with life, and his fingers hushed the crowd with a hiss of moving metal and wonder. Steam billowed off of of him as his internal heat boiled the film of sweat that coated him. The floating metal shaped itself, sprouting a mane and clawed legs. It's head grew jaws, roaring with the power of war, and it's body patterned itself with scales. Calum's hands cooled visibly, and the light in his veins expired into a faint orange, though still noticeably tinted under his pink skin. The metals movements stilled: a dragon frozen mid-flight. Turned to steel. Silence filled the room, and the steel sculpture dropped heavily into Calum's awaiting palms; at this, the crowd swooned, praising and fanning themselves from his heat. The blonde idol smiled his bright, perfect grin, and turned quietly to a woman to his right, her hair blonde and curled in big ringlets. To her, he gifted his art, watching as her shoulders and cheeks blushed with overwhelming joy, and she held it to her chest.  
  
               Behind him, the music faded to a silence as a door slammed open. The crowd that was once unified for Calum's spirit now split, backing off from Calum as if he were toxic. A few were seen slipping out of the room, others turned to retreat to their previous business. The tension in the room pressurized into hostility, making the air vibrate with a sudden rage as one man's pretense seemed to overtake the room. No man was used to the rage, not even Calum. The only sound was his heartbeat. He turned on light feet, nearly falling off of the edge of the fountain into the water, if not for a quick swing of one arm to shift his balance in the other direction. His hand shook. He stumbled onto the stones of the floor, and looked up to see he was face to face with a large, red haired man. Calum shook, his body trembling in the mere presence of such painful malice. His eyes grew wide like a deer in the face of a blue eyed bear. Calum backed up a step, unable to shake the idea that he was backed in a corner, despite the expansive room surrounding him.  
  
               " **Calum,** " the red haired man rumbled, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Nobody dared get in his way. The man was built like a tank. There had been many times when Calum would try to run, following his instinct as his body and mind grew increasingly aware of the danger it was in. His heart skipped and his thoughts raced. _Run,_ they whispered as the industrial lord neared, his red hair like a lion's mane around his head, flowing down his massive back like a fish-tailed whip that cracked with a toss of his head. A bull about to charge. " **Calum,** " roared the voice again, louder now, a deep boom in his chest. Calum's vision had blurred, the fear fogging his mind and his logic. He took a deep breath, tasting smoke and fire. He blinked, and opened his eyes to a cat-like stare, and the gaunt cheeks of the sharp muzzle that was Moksha, the factory lead.  
  
               Moksha's bulk towered over Calum, with his shoulders nearly three times as broad as the metal-bender's were. The room had cleared by now like innocent wildlife hiding from disaster. Moksha hovered, his jaw working and teeth grinding as he glared down at Calum, leaned over so Calum had to look straight up to meet his gaze, and forcing him to shrink back from the eight foot menace. Calum's throat bobbed, his body still quivering. " **Moksha,** " he breathed, his voice but a croak. The king before him threw his head back again, enraged by the sound of his voice. He flexed, containing a rage beneath his skin as if it hurt him to withhold it. Moksha barred his teeth, showing the golden fangs that replaced his canines, and the slight glint of gold in his bottom molars. With a snarl, his hot breath billowed in Calum's face, once more the smell of smoke and fire.  
  
               He cracked as if someone had finally released his chain. One chink in the metal snapped, and Moksha's hands lifted and gripped Calum's arms like vices, lifting him into the air. He wrenched the hooded boy to the side, violently shaking him and forcing his neck to snap back with an audible crack. " **I...** " he roared, lifting him off of the ground at a bent-arms length, nearly three feet up. " **Ought to _fucking kill you_ , worm!**" The world shifted, and Calum's body was thrown across the floor, his head cracking against the stone. The world moved too fast, and before he could find any barings, Moksha was over him again, his foot crushing his throat, and his fists raised.  
  
               All eyes were diverted as the first punch was thrown, the quiet squeaks of Calum's pain was the only sound in the room, other than the dull thuds of Moksha's knuckles. It went on, punch after punch until the little whimpers stopped, and Moksha was breathing hard, his wavy hair messy and the veins in his neck and arms bulging with pressure. " **Keep the _fuck_ away from my factory, do you hear me?! If I see you with any more of _my_ steel, I'll cut your _fucking_ hands off, dragon boy.** " The room rang with the last threat as Moksha stormed away, leaving Calum dazed, bleeding, and breathing hard on the ground.  
  
               A third man waited, leaned quietly against the door that Moksha was headed to. The man's hair was slicked and pulled up into a messy bun, platinum blonde with one pure white streak on the right side. His sharp jaw was lined with a well groomed beard, and his nose was angled. He stared silently from under his furrowed brow up at Moksha, disappointment and judgement clear on his face. As Moksha passed him, he paused, tilting his chin up to stare down at the lithe, blonde man with a snarl so deep that it hollowed out his already gaunt cheeks. " **Don't,** " he snapped like a feral animal, a finger stabbing into the silver haired man's chest, sharp and painful. The door swung closed again, leaving the quiet sounds of flutes and lutes to continue as if none of it had ever happened.  
  
               The blonde man didn't move, reaching one hand up to gently hold his chest where he'd been prodded. From across the room, the quiet call of Calum echoed out to him beneath the newly revived beat of a drum.  
  
               " **Advay...** "  
  
                " **Please...Advay, please.** " Advay's brow twitched and he swallowed hard, chancing a look up to Calum from where he stood. The poor hooded boy, with his bruised face and his shaking body, trying to stand. _Don't_ , reminded the words of Moksha.  
  
               Don't. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based heavily off of a dream I had. The dream's summary will be posted at the end of the last chapter in the notes, to avoid spoiling anything. Just a note, that I tend to have extremely vivid and life-like dreams, and almost everything in this work was based around the dream, only adding details to make it make sense in a story format! I hope to see you all at the end, so I can share the dream's summary with you all!


End file.
